Chapter 2 - The Key Nobody Was Supposed to Find
Emily had always imagined a dangerous man would announce himself with threats. Dominic Russo announced himself by asking whether she wanted a lawyer.
They sat in Bellucci's locked office, beneath the harsh light of a desk lamp. Luca remained by the door. Ray stood against a filing cabinet, looking as if he might be sick. Dominic had dismissed the restaurant's owner from the room after confirming that the security recordings would be preserved.
“I haven't committed a crime,” Emily said.
“I didn't say you had.”
“Then why would I need a lawyer?”
“Because people with money are already trying to make it look as though you have.”
Emily studied him. There was no softness in his face, but there was something she had not expected: he waited for her answer.
“I want my brother to know where I am,” she said.
Dominic nodded. “Call him.”
She did. She told her brother, Ben, that something strange had happened at work and that he should check on their mother in the morning. She left out the photograph. She couldn't bear to hear panic in his voice.
When she ended the call, Dominic slid a glass of water toward her.
“Start with Room Seven,” he said.
Emily described the envelope, the wax, the stranger beside the fireplace. She remembered his gray hair, a small scar below his chin, and a gold ring shaped like a square. Most of all she remembered the way Madeline had said the word original—as though there was another document waiting to take its place.
“Did you touch the envelope?” Dominic asked.
“Not then.”
“Then how did wax get on your sleeve?”
Emily took a slow breath. “The next morning I went back to clean. There was a little red flake on the edge of the mantel. I picked it up because I thought it was broken glass. It melted against my sleeve when I was carrying hot dishes later.”
Dominic looked toward Luca. “Preserve the shirt.”
“I'm not giving you my only clean work uniform,” Emily said automatically.
Luca almost smiled. Dominic didn't.
“We'll replace it,” Dominic said. “And we'll document where it came from. You can have a copy of everything.”
The answer surprised her. She had expected him to simply take what he wanted.
Ray cleared his throat. “There was something else. The key Emily lost wasn't for a locker.”
Emily turned. “Ray?”
He looked at the floor. “It was the spare key to the old records cabinet. I gave it to her last week when the upstairs lock jammed. I forgot to collect it.”
Emily remembered now. The small brass key had hung from her apron beside her locker key. She had assumed the thief took both.
“What's in the cabinet?” Dominic asked.
“Private event receipts, old reservation ledgers, a few guest invoices,” Ray said. “The restaurant used paper before it upgraded the system.”
“And Room Seven's booking from three nights ago?”
Ray's face changed. “That room wasn't booked.”
“Exactly,” Emily said.
Dominic stood. “Show me the cabinet.”
They went upstairs through the staff staircase. Bellucci's had been built in the 1920s, and its narrow upper hallway smelled faintly of polished wood and old smoke. Room Seven stood at the far end. A heavy velvet curtain covered its window.
The records cabinet was open.
Its drawers had been emptied onto the floor. A few torn folders lay under a chair. Someone had removed the surveillance recorder mounted above the doorway, leaving two wires dangling like cut nerves.
Luca examined the screws. “Recent.”
Emily stared at the ruined cabinet. “I was here at six. It was locked.”
Dominic took out his phone and photographed the damage. “Nobody touches anything until the police and our attorney have seen it.”
“Police?” Ray repeated, startled.
“Yes,” Dominic said. “A theft and threats against a witness are crimes. I don't intend to pretend otherwise.”
Emily glanced at him. She had heard stories about the Russo family, stories that made ordinary people cross streets. She hadn't expected him to call the police into his own business.
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Madeline stood at the top of the staircase in her cream-colored coat. Her eyes traveled from the open cabinet to Emily's face.
“Dominic,” she said. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”
“Have you?”
She ignored the question. “Why is the waitress still here?”
“Her name is Emily.”
Madeline smiled tightly. “Of course it is.”
“Tell me about the man with the scar.”
For the first time, Madeline looked genuinely confused. Only for an instant, but Emily saw it.
“What man?”
“The one you met here three nights ago.”
Madeline's gaze snapped toward Emily. “You listened at a private door?”
Dominic didn't move. “You just confirmed you were in that room.”
Madeline went very still.
Then she laughed, a thin sound that did not belong in the hallway. “I came to discuss a surprise for our wedding. You're making a fool of yourself.”
“Then tell me the surprise.”
“Not with an employee standing here.”
Emily had spent years swallowing words for the sake of a paycheck. Tonight she had reached the bottom of that well.
“You poured wine on me,” she said. “You put pills in my locker. You had someone photograph my mother. Whatever your surprise is, I don't want any part of it.”
Madeline's expression went flat. “Be careful what you accuse people of.”
“That's enough,” Dominic said.
He turned to Luca. “Escort Ms. Cross downstairs. She can leave with her driver.”
“Dominic!” Madeline snapped. “I'm your fiancée.”
“Then you should have trusted me with the truth.”
She looked at Emily with such naked hatred that Emily stepped backward. Madeline's voice dropped to a whisper.
“You don't know what you've walked into.”
Emily answered before she could stop herself. “Neither do you.”
Madeline left. The sound of her heels faded down the stairs.
Only then did Emily realize she was shaking.
Dominic watched her for a moment. “You can go home. Luca can arrange a safe ride, or you can call someone you trust. It's your choice.”
“I want to find out who took the key.”
“That isn't your responsibility.”
“They know where my mother lives. It became my responsibility when they brought her into it.”
Dominic considered her. “Fair enough. But we do this with witnesses and records, not by chasing people into dark rooms.”
Ray crouched beside the cabinet and lifted a folder that had fallen behind the radiator. It was labeled PRIVATE DINING—MARCH. Inside, the top page was a duplicate receipt from three nights earlier.
Emily read it twice.
The room had been reserved under a name she recognized from her mother's old medical paperwork: H. Vale Consulting.
“Why do you know that name?” Dominic asked.
Emily swallowed. “A company called Vale Financial handled the lawsuit after my father died. They said his debts swallowed everything. We lost our house.”
“What was your father's name?”
“Thomas Carter.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“Thomas Carter worked for my father,” he said.
Emily stared at him. “No. He was an accountant for a shipping company.”
“Russo Maritime.”
The hallway seemed to tilt.
She had spent thirteen years believing her father's work was ordinary, his death a terrible accident, and the collapse of their finances a cruel coincidence. Now the name on the receipt connected his life to the man standing in front of her.
Dominic called Samuel Price and put him on speaker. The attorney listened to the name Thomas Carter, then went silent.
“Samuel?” Dominic demanded.
“I remember him,” Samuel said. “Your father trusted him with internal audits. Carter died before he could finish one.”
“Finish what?”
“A review of a trust subsidiary. I never saw the report.”
Emily's throat tightened. “My father was killed in a highway collision.”
“I know,” Samuel said quietly.
Ray reached into the folder again. A second slip of paper had been stapled behind the receipt. It contained only a bank deposit reference and a handwritten instruction: RELEASE AFTER FRIDAY SIGNING.
Dominic photographed it. “What signing?” Emily asked.
“Madeline arranged a merger ceremony for Friday,” he said. “I thought I was approving a charitable property transfer. Apparently someone wants a different signature.”
Emily looked at the old receipt, then at the empty cabinet. “And someone wanted to erase the meeting before you asked questions.”
Luca's phone buzzed. He read the message and stiffened.
“What?” Dominic asked.
“The assisted-living facility called. A woman claiming to be Emily's sister tried to sign her mother out twenty minutes ago.”
Emily's heart slammed against her ribs. “I don't have a sister.”
Dominic was already reaching for his coat.
Then Emily's own phone lit up with a new message from an unknown number.
It was a picture of a cream-colored envelope on a kitchen table.
May you like
Below it were five words:
YOUR FATHER KEPT THE OTHER COPY.
